


Hostage

by areneecz



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Come, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come Shot, Delusions, Emotional Manipulation, Face Slapping, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapped, Kidnapping, Light BDSM, M/M, Manipulation, Psychotic Delusions, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Slapping, Stockholm, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areneecz/pseuds/areneecz
Summary: Waylon Park is a prisoner of Eddie Gluskin's. Three long years later and the trauma finally takes it's toll.





	1. Caged

Crisp. The winter air was cold and bitter. Streets crowded with bustling crowds eager to return home. Snow crunching underfoot was the only audible noise. Crowds. A dry laugh escaped his mouth as he continued on his path. Silent, towering, moving through the sea of claustrophobia as he fought against it. Parting water, shuffling strangers quickly scrambling away. Hands full, arms overflowing with a strange adornment of freshly cut flowers and a brimming bag of groceries. No one questioned, no one watched, his disappearance was a gift as he eerily backed out of the snow packed parking lot. Churning wheels causing an uproar as the small battered vehicle sped off for the outskirts of the forest.

Breaking glass echoed throughout the discreet canopy as the heaving rubber wheels rolled into place. A whistle, hum, a reverberating song escaping his frostbitten lips as he heaved the paper bags into his lap. Stepping free from the vehicle he sprouted with excitement, fingers unbearably feisty as he slammed the metal door behind him. With a cocky strut, eager smile, hot on his heels as he headed for the adequate log cabin.

"Darling." He began in a sing-song voice. A chuckle escaping pursed lips as he switched hands to multitask. Keys jingling as he locked the heavy set wooden door behind him. The room sat dimly lit, silent all for the rushing of warm air. "The town was horrendous, packed to the brim." Eddie rambled as occupied hands moved to relocate the overflowing sacks of necessities. Silent, no reply. With a chuckle he kneed at the chair a slumbering form sat within. Tied. Limbs bound as a thin nightgown barley sheathed his exposed flesh. A flowing wig forced over his head as a swatch of smudged lipstick ran across his lips. Brows furrowed he only stared ahead.

"Fuck you." The captor cursed, hands bound behind him as he writhed uncomfortably against the wooden chair. "Fuck this little game." He retorted, twitching as he launched the mop of hair from his head, an echoing chaff as it slinked against the linoleum floor below.

"My, my." Gluskin lulled, hands busy digging through a nearby cabinet to locate a vase. Atop the table sat the bouquet, a knife moistened with the dew of freshly watered flowers as a collection of stems sat beneath. "And to think I bought you flowers." He chuckled humorously, examining a few possible candidates before reluctantly agreeing on a dusty detailed glass.

"Have fun parading through that cozy little town you snatched me from?" The prisoner spat, a writhe to the bindings as he fought against the hopelessness. He was stuck, utterly stuck, fighting was useless, but he managed it, every day, every night. "Still see those posters with my face on them?" He added, a burrowing growl festering in his throat.

"I took those down months ago." Eddie chortled from a distance, flowers brimming into the small opening as they fell into the vase. Attention returning to the brown bags as he pulled free a newly bought set of frilly undergarments. "No use harping on the past, sweetheart." Gluskin added with a proud smile.

"Waylon." The bound man interjected suddenly.

"Hm?" Eddie retorted, a curious eyebrow pecking up as he looked over his victim.

"My name is Waylon." The man finally admitted with a sigh. "I'd rather you' use it instead of those nauseating pet names." He added with an intentional gag, hiding his eyes.

"Waylon." Eddie repeated. Name hot on his tongue as he thought the title over. "Watch your mouth." He added with a sudden change in tone, a sharpness to his words as he moved for the abandoned cutlery. Shoes shifting on the polished linoleum as he stepped forward with the intimidating blade, a silent hitch of breath catching in Waylon's throat as the man moved to slice at the weaved ropes. With little to no effort he hoisted the smaller man over his shoulder, weapon abandoned on the seat of the wooden chair as he took off for the bedroom adjacent.

The room groaned with silence as Gluskin forced a chain, a binding around Waylon's ankle. Trapped, from one room to another. Eddie was criminally insane, a kidnapper. Waylon, little to three years ago he stood free, pursuing the bustling shops as carefree as possible, obviously he noticed the stalking presence following his every move, he made the stupid mistake to assume coincidence. A man with little to no family pursing the idea, buying new outfits to force Waylon into seemed to be his favorite pastime, he mourned the poor souls who had to witness his towering figure pacing the lingerie section.

"Here." Gluskin interjected, tossing the garments carelessly in Waylon's direction. He was hurt, obviously. Waylon, crude and vulgar to a "man" who only wanted the best for him. Who only bought the softest linen's and expensive satin's. He could care less how the beast felt. "You'll have to **earn** dinner." Gluskin croaked disgustingly. A hunger on his face as his expression immediately shifted.

Food. He could care less, really. A day without eating wouldn't kill him. But Gluskin was relentless, stringing out a week's worth of punishments for a simple conjunction. He caught the set of panties effortlessly as his palm moved to rub over the fabric. Soft, expensive. Eddie did care, really. It was a disgusting obsession. Gluskin's stare was heinous as Waylon worked the silk straps off his shoulders, the thin nightgown fluttering to the carpet as he sat exposed all but for a frilly set of lingerie he couldn't remember putting on. Working the first pair off he hid, turning away to pick through the choices he was gifted with.

"Embarrassed to reveal yourself to me?" Eddie questioned, a humorous tone to his voice as he brought a hand underneath to support his chin. "To reveal your true intentions?" He harped teasingly. Blue eyes hungrily took in every itch of visible skin. Pale, chestnut, a golden hue of perfection. "You have quite a mouth for someone so." He paused, an audible stop as the last word spoken hung in the air. "Shy." He added finally, a drag to the word as it escaped his lips.

Pulling on the desired pair he finally revealed himself. Turing over he watched Gluskin's prying irises eat up every inch of his body. He knew what he wanted, what "earning" entailed. With shaking legs Waylon let himself relax, sitting against the newly made bed as he pulled at the crotch of his underwear. A dragging finger tracing the veins of his cock. A twitching aggravation to his length as Gluskin flashed a toothy smile. Dipping underneath Waylon wrapped his fingers around his strangely acquired semi hard-on. Eye to eye with Gluskin as he pleasured himself, tongue lolling to the side as he refused to break eye contact. Fingers gravitated, a chaffing drag as he slid moistened fingers over the swollen head, slit agape as he smeared the gathering pre-cum. He knew Eddie liked it, seeing his angel so far away from purity, his swelling length was obvious, even from where Waylon sat. Gathering moans escaped, echoing within the small space as Gluskin ushered forward.

"Slut." Eddie hissed, hands moving to pull Waylon from his soon-to-come orgasm. A tease, a fucking ruse. Gluskin stopping him seconds before ecstasy. Hands, a suffocating grasp tugged at the sensitive skin as Eddie brought the morsel to his lips. Tongue tracing over the slit, dabbing at the pre-cum hungrily as his mouth moved to taste every inch of available skin. "A dirty cock-sucking whore." Gluskin teased as fingers furled around Waylon's tightening balls. A single eye squeezed shut as his legs jutted upwards, a shake to his form as a pooling warmth grazed Eddie's taste buds. Abandoning his flaccid length, Gluskin moved for Waylon's agape mouth, tongue moving quickly to force the foul secretion into his mouth. Lips forced together as tongues interlocked, cum slipping over teeth and gums, stale against his taste buds as they shared a collective experience.

Breathlessly Waylon slumped against the mattress. Eddie sat above, not yet satisfied as he pulled at his leather belt. Fabric looping over as he pulled his swollen cock free. With an effortless hurl Waylon was flipped, forced on his stomach as needy appendages moved for the willing entrance. One by one, slathered with cum, fingers slipped along his swollen entrance as he forced his arching back against Eddie's figure. Gluskin was dedicated, working every appendage carefully as he writhed against every explicable vein. Fingers hooked inside as Waylon's cock twitched against the weight of his stomach. Patience ran thin as Eddie moved to line up his swollen head with Waylon's entrance. A jutting movement as he eased his way inside. Delicate, comforting. Skin to skin sensitivity grew as Waylon twitched underneath Gluskin's massive form. Hands worked over his back, easing over protruding vertebrae as another spread him wider.

"Touch me." Waylon begged, an audible cry escaping his lips as he reached back to pry one of Gluskin's hands forward. Guiding the needy fingers to his nipples as Eddie teased the skin eagerly. Hands fought against the comforter, nails piercing the fabric as Waylon held on. Head buzzing as he anticipated the oncoming orgasm. "Fuck me." He cursed hungrily, teeth clentched as he fought against the disgust burrowing beneath. He didn't know what to feel anymore. Three longs year had finally taken it's toll as Waylon pushed in-sync with Gluskin's heaving form.

Release was short and sweet, stripping over the glistening skin of Waylon's back, a flowing pool of pure ecstasy and adrenaline. The silence was deafening as Eddie quietly began to clean himself up, pressing a line of kisses to the small of Waylon's back as he licked at his own cum. Cold. The room grew silent as Waylon tiredly flipped himself over, a gasp of exhaustion escaping his lips as he eyed the shuffling shadow. Flattening his garments the two shared only a brief selection of groans as Eddie moved for the agape door.

"What a performance." Gluskin chuckled as he turned to eye the exhausted form behind him, to eye the complete dishevelment of the man before him. "Dinner is served." He grinned, a final retort as he left the bedroom behind in search of the kitchen.


	2. Caught

Sulking away from the sweat-stained mattress, he stood, revealing lingerie barley hanging on as it danced the length of his arms, legs. Frilly and suffocating he ripped at the embarrassment that Eddie had "gifted" him with. A homey aroma setteled over the room, captivating Waylon's nostils as he pecked at his beaten and bruised skin. Standing as far away as he could manage with the chaffing chain around his ankle. He worked, digging through piles of Gluskin's discarded clothing, ultimately decided on and oversized sweater. Pants, most of Eddie's were too big, too baggy, and his own, his own seemed no where in sight. Leaving behind the pile he returned to the mattress, sinking into the dull and desolate heap of material as he gritted, lines of frills that kept him clothed scratching his skin. Mindlessly his tounge lolled, exausted, tired. Moving he flopped, laying back as he let a collection of heavy breaths pass. Rolling back and forth, from side to side as he searched out the proper comfortable position. Home, he missed home, he always did, his freedom. Fearfully he curled, aware of the impending stockholm syndrome that curled around him like invansive vines, rooting deeper and deeper as then pulled him down under.

"Waylon." A familar voice called, tounging forward as a shadow towered behind, filling the small wooden doorway as a toothy smile floated to the surface. "Darling, doll." He purred, stepping closer as he was ultimately revealed. Teetering he took his spot beside Waylon, sliding his hand over the curve of the smaller man's back as he pet his captured prey. Fingers edging in as Gluskin's thumb dragged over the plump flesh of Waylon's bottom lip.

"Eddie." Waylon whined, a inner beg crawling from the deepest depths, darkness flooding, brimming and replacing. "Oh, Eddie." He gasped, a hidden disgust mixed with a debilitating hunger. Flowing tears, ghosted his cheeks as he fought his emotions, a swirling epitome of confusion as he wished for closeness, to be against Eddie, to be closer to him than ever before.


	3. Calloused

"Doll." Eddie complimented, Waylon in his hold as he brushed thick and swollen fingers through the collection of hair, greasy blonde locks slick and slippery as the smaller man whined at the contact. Arms, his arms felt so good, so right but so wrong, where he both wanted to be and never be again. "Why do you cry?" He questioned, dabbing fingers wiping at the tears as Waylon's cheat heaved, up and down as he sobbed. "Perhaps you deserve a taste a freedom?" Gluskin suddenly grimanced, a sickness to his words as he ultimately decided, giving Waylon what he wanted. "Some time to roam free." He explained, curling a single finger as he ordered Waylon to move closer.

"With you?" Waylon asked, a desperate question seeking an immediate answer as pale fingers gripped at Gluskin's muscular forearm. Silently he watched, watched as Eddie swung him sideways, his legs, as he tinkered with the binding contraption he had constructed.

"With me." Gluskin grinned, stunned with Waylon's sudden change of heart, the broken state he sat in.

With a rattle the chain snaked to the floor, echoing against the wooden panels as he was freed. Standing he wobbeled, Eddie a constant support as he followed close behind. Meekly he peeked, poking his head into the living room as his surrounds sat in a different light. For once he took in the details, the nicknaks and photographs that littered the countless accompanying shelfs, the brimming flowers, dead or alive, the trail of petals left behind as life faded away. Bare feet against the carpet he paced, arms crossed as he hugged his frail frame. With hovering irses he was surveyed, orbs of blue watching his every move as he danced his fingers over the trinkets, mindlessly flicking away the patches of dust that had managed to settle.

"Do you dust?" Waylon questioned, one arm extended whilst the other continued to grip at his side, on his tip-toes as he placed his soft doe-like eyes atop the other. Golden frames and fragile porcelin coated with dust as he wished to wipe it clean, to succum to the homely atmosphere. "I could dust." He commented, a dry sniffle echoing as every word spoken arose a burrowing fear, a panic of the possible upset of his captor.

"Such the little housewife." Eddie praised, stepping forward as he supported the other, holding him gently as he eyed his own belongings, the memories he had forgotten. "That would be marvelous." He insured, nodding in agreement to Waylon's demands. Overhead the mouth-watering aroma flowed, the small stove-timer whining in response as the alarm chimed. "But first." Gluskin continued, taking the others hand as he led him forward, away from the shelfs, the living room as they ducked into the kitchen. One ordered to sit as the other moved for the stove. "Dinner." He grinned, toothy and full as he prepared, cotton mitts over his hands as he pulled the decidant meal from the oven.

"What is it?" Waylon questioned, hands furling in his lap as he sat atop the small swivel chair. Eyes following the other, carefully watching as he breathed in the hearty scent of herbs and spices. "It smells amazing." He complimented, mouth practically watering as a clawing hunger errupted in his small stomach.

"Chicken and potatoes." Gluskin exclaimed, pan in hand as he spun on his heels, sliding the hot metal atop a wooden cutting board as he plucked off the uneeded mitts. Hands moving as they grew preoccupied. "Baked in a garlic parmesan spinach cream sauce." He complied. Serving spoon in hand as he scooped too heaping portions out, two plates filled as he returned the utensil to the pan. Stepping forward he whisked the dishes aside, passing the plate over as he sat across from Waylon. Pawing a drawer open he collected two forks, passing one along as the other picked at his loaded plate.

Quiet, dinner was quiet as the two happily ate, lost in the meal as Waylon released just how hungry he actually was. One serving, two, tonight was a compromise, Eddie was never so grateful, not with Waylon, not with now he acted, but now, now they had turned over a new leaf. Silently they finished, pushing untensils aside as Eddie rose to his feet. Breaking from the usual order of things the smaller man stood, collecting the empty plates with a reaching peck to the others cheek before walking them over to the sink, flushing a spray of water over the glassware as he rinsed the dishes.

"My, my." Eddie gloated, pushing closer as he eased his frame against Waylon's back, hands guiding and drifting as he touched the other, eyes watching his simple movements as he dragged a soggy sponge across the greasy glass surface. "Such a change from the usual." He purred, lips dragging across the tensed skin of Waylon's nape, a curl as he moved against the contact, sponge oozing from his grasp as he pulled the others arms closer.

Silently his mind wretched, wretched as Eddie carrased him, as Eddie handled his small frame with ease, holding him bridal style as he nuzzled the warm flesh closer. Whisked away he shivered, fretting and fearful, afraid of his shattering, of just how much he had managed to break. Mindlessly he obeyed, did what he was told, as he was ordered to expose himself, to undress, to slink next to Gluskin in bed, to curl against the giant frame of warmth he ultimately despised and craved simultaneously.


	4. Catastrophic

Jolting awake he cried, a waterfall of uncontrollable tears. Reeling, his mind reeled continuously, flashing memories of his past life, the family he had left behind, forgotten. A sickness rolled deep inside as he batteled himself, the mixture of pain and pleasure. Tearing hands ripped at his hair as he shook in disgust, the disgust in himself for giving up so easily, to succumbing to the massive beast. Cold pale-blue fingers gripped at his wrists, his own hands moving unconsciously as he bit at his lower lip, face tremoring with sobs as he ripped away from the sheets.

"Darling?" Gluskin heaved, rolling aside as the trembling movements shook him from his slumber. Dark, darkness shrouded the small room as the moon danced in the sky above, illuminating the window pane as Waylon fell to his knees. "Darling!" He rang, jolting awake as he assisted, heaving to the floor, hands gripping and grasping, beside the tearful mess as his efforts ultimately failed.

"Don't **_fucking_** touch me!" Waylon screamed, an ear-piercing shriek escaping his mouth as he nudged away, arms and legs flailing as he shoved the other. Eyes red and puffy, swollen and sad as he swung at the lump beside him. "Don't you _**fucking**_ get it?" He barked, palms open as planned to harm, movement ceasing as Gluskin caught him.

" ** _Whore_**." Eddie sniveled, turning his nose at the pitiful excuse before him. Hands disobeyed, jerking forward as they curled around Waylon's neck, air forced from his throat as the talons clasped closed. "You ungrateful **_bitch_**!" He interjected, rasing and lowering as he slammed Waylon's small frame into the carpet. Teeth clentched he seethed, slamming the smaller man into the wall as his suffocating hold released.

"Hurt me." Waylon ordered, painfully slumping forward as he pecked at Eddie's fingers, prying them from the carpet as he put them back around his neck. Tearfully he kicked and writhed, he wanted it, to be hurt, hit, abused, to feel anything other than what he currently did. " ** _Fucking_** hit me!" He spat, a glob of salvia forced from his mouth as he spit in Gluskin's direction. Maybe, maybe if he pushed Eddid hard enough he'd snap, snap him.

"Look at you." Eddie hissed, sharp teeth barred as he pulled his hand from Waylon's, disgusted with the contact as he moved. Sharp and stinging the flesh connected, hand to cheek as Gluskin slapped him, invasive fingers pinching the smaller man's red cheeks, wet and slick with sadness as the flow of salt continued. "Begging for it." He insinuated, force returned as he backhanded his writhing prey. "To be hit." Gluskin continued, another supplying slap mixing Waylon's mind as he lifelessly flopped. "To be hurt." He interjected, a lower, a squeeze as his hands settled around Waylon's windpipe.

"Anything." Waylon laughed pathetically, response a breathy wheeze as his face flushed purple. His lips tingled at the lack of oxygen, at the closeness to his demise. "Anything to escape." He hacked, writhing under the touch as his arms flopped, brought to his sides as he let them roll away. With a gasp he was released, hacking and coughing as he crawled, pushing into the corner as he pushed his luck further. "To escape this." He wheezed, small hands rubbing at his neck as he coughed, curling in on himself as he glared. "To escape you." He finished, an insulting revelation spat in Eddie's direction as sad brown floated atop fiesty blue.

"Insolent wretch." Gluskin insulted. Moving he reacted, hands atop the other as he lifted Waylon with ease, jerking him aside as he searched. Chain in-hand, cold and criminal as he forced the contraption around Waylon's ankle. Standing free he stomped around the room, digging through desks and drawers and he mused and mumbled. "Pitiful excuse of a woman." He continued as he tossed a collection aside, a line of rope binding the prisoners frail hands, duct-tape teased and torn as a single silver swatch was stamped across his mouth.

Trapped, again he was trapped as he watched Eddie navigate the darkness. Arms and legs burning, tugged and tight as he uselessly fought. Lungs ablaze, burning like coals as his throat begged. Bruises scattered, littering his skin as boiling heaps arose. With a final retort Eddie moved, rag in his grasp as he forced the soft cloth over Waylon's nose, fumes hazy and unforgiving as the chemicals worked through the smaller man's system. Blinking he faded, vision hazy as he slumped against the other, returned to bed, to his nightmare. Lifelessly rolled aside he clambered against the wall, left to the cold as Eddie collected his things, sheets and blankets as he moved for a different room completely.


	5. Chastised

Waking up he reeled, sockets sore, joints abused. Creasing rope binded his wrists, material prickling, eating away at the flesh beneath it as he made sense of the situation. His face was sore, an unmistakable burn radiating from his skin as he absentmindedly dragged his weight against the chaffing fabric of the cold mattress below. His throat collasped with every accompanying breath, the familiar curl of fingers around his windpipe as he huffed out the remaining whiffs of chemicals that clouded his lungs. Rolling around he analysed the predicament, throwing his weight around as he encompassed the edge of the bed, legs and arms tossed over as he writhed within his brutal bindings. Managing a proper position his eyes finally adjusted, focusing on the dancing rays of sunlight that shined through the dusty blinds ahead, the furled clumps of abandoned articles that neither of the two had gotten around to maintaining, the bedsheets draping around the entirety of the room, halfway across the bed, the remaining length tangling underneath. A gentle parade of footsteps vibrated the small room, echoing in the hallway directly outside. The pursuit was peaceful, gentle and attentive as the blockade of a door was swept aside, a familiar grin protuding from the darkness.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Gluskin growled. Outwardly he appeared calm, gracious and gentle as he strutted around the room. Focused yet preoccupied, mentally he focused on Waylon, the man currently atop the mattress the two had managed to share, physically he was focused on more tedious tasks. "Or perhaps you don't quite remember the little escapade you put me through last night." He added with a gutteral groan. Strutting forward he moved away from the door, stepping forward with a caked on expression, features firm as he eyed the other. Cleanly calm he flashed a smile, a provocative countermeasure as he began to draw closer. "Shall I run you through it, jog your memory?" Eddie asked, wooden panels creaking underfoot as he closed in. Kneeling down a single monstorous hand clasped around the freshly left marks littering Waylon's neck, the other curled around the swatch of duct-tape. "Or perhaps." He annouced, staring ahead longingly, blue eyeing brown, a devious stare that shifted the longer it lasted, from one emotion to the next as a decision was finally made. With a sudden jerk the patch was ripped away, flesh ablaze as tears stung the corners of Waylon's eyes, skin raw and reddened as the now useless swatch was tossed to the floor.

Waylon was silent, reeling from the minuscule yet manageable amount of pain he had just been so genourousnly gifted with. The unameable drugs he had been dosed with fogged his memory, clouding the thoughts he aimlessly swam through. In forced prayer he sat, arms tied together atop his lap they were displayed in a prude manner. Gluskin was mad, that was obvious, and painfully obvious at that.

"Nothing to say?" Eddie continued, the silence broken as he pushed himself away from the floor, balancing as he brought himself back to a standing position. Looming over he closed in, poking and prodding as he furled his fingers within the mess of rope binding Waylon's wrists. A few uncomfortable seconds passed before the tangled mess of string finally fell to the floor. "Nothing at all?" He added, retracting back a few steps before crossing his arms argumentatively.

"I have no excuse." Waylon finally managed. Crudely his lips smacked together, skin numb and tingly from the sudden assult Gluskin had supplied earlier. Avoiding eye contact he lowered his gaze, attention on his lap, his wrists, the skin was raw, red and blistered, the lower layers of flesh irritated and injured. "I have nothing." He interjected. Conscious thoughts lost within the sea that was his current state of mind.

"I have no choice but to punish you." Gluskin groaned, a single arm raising to push and pull at the skin of his own face, fingers coming together to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "You need to learn your place in this household." He added, a grit of skin as he pressed his lips together. Silently he vibrated, internally deciding what to do, how to react, as he hovered over. "I don't want to, but." He suddenly began, a shift in emotion as he closed in, sitting beside Waylon as the other half of the mattress sinked in response to the sudden amount of weight applied. "It needs to be done." He finalized, caressing the crook of Waylon's neck as he leanded in lovingly.

Chores, one after the other, day after day, week after week. His punishment was housework, motherly duties, that of a maid. Tend to the dishes, sweep the floor, vacuum the carpets, dust the knick-knacks, rearrange them, sort the laundry, fold and file. Silently he tended to his tasks, to and fro, back and forth as he worked through his punishment. He was alone, for the most part, cut off, unable to speak, to testify, forced to remain silent and do as he was told. Working through his pain his mind wandered, reeling as he fought through the suffocating stockholm syndrome that threatened to tighten it's hold. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the comic "Honeymoon Cabin." by foxpen.tumblr.com.


End file.
